# 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
Aayansh Agniwanshi a king of jaipur and CEO of Agniwanshi CO. Lit. A mafia king with ruthless, grumpy, cold.
'Love is a trap. When it appears, we see only its light, not its shadows.' A...
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The heavy wooden door of the Agniwanshi palace creaked open as Aayansh stepped inside. The staff stood in a nervous line, watching the King of Jaipur walk in with an expression so cold, it could’ve frozen the sun itself.
His perfectly tailored black suit looked slightly disheveled now, his tie pulled loose around his neck, and his intense brown eyes darker than usual — not from fatigue, but rage laced with betrayal.
He didn’t say a word.
“Beta... Aayansh,” Maya called softly from the grand staircase, her voice gentle and concerned, but he didn’t even glance her way.
“Bhai sa suniye na, khana toh kha lijiye,” Ahaan added, trying to lighten the mood with his usual charm.
["Bhai sa listen, at least eat something."]
Silence.
Meera dadi sa tried too, “Hum samajh sakte hain gussa ho, par badho se bhi galti ho jati hai, humein maaf kar de,” she said with a hand on his shoulder.
["We understand you're angry, but even elders make mistakes. Forgive us."]
He simply stepped aside and walked away.
No word. No nod. Just silence — sharp, heavy silence.
Even the palace lights seemed to dim as Aayansh climbed the stairs two steps at a time and opened the door to his room.
But the moment he entered, his eyes searched for her.
Ishanvi.
He looked towards the balcony — empty.
The soft green couch where she liked to sit with her diary — untouched.
The dressing table — not a single bangle or clip scattered like usual.
His heartbeat quickened.
“Ishanvi...” he called out, voice low and rough, almost hoping she would jump out from somewhere, teasing him like always.
But nothing.
The room felt hollow. Cold. Incomplete.
She wasn’t there.
His chest tightened as he took a slow step forward and opened the wardrobe door — her side was still full, her clothes hanging neatly, her sarees still fragrant with her jasmine perfume — but the silence screamed louder than ever.
She was still at her maayka.
That realisation hit him harder than he thought it would.
The anger — the chaos of the day, the embarrassment, the laughter echoing in the conference room — all of it came back in a wave.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration.
